Page 26 of Silent Stalker

I love that she’s afraid—it makes this moment much sweeter.

My voice is cold, hard as steel. “You and I both know you’ve been waiting for this.”

I grab her by the hair, relishing the feel of the silky strands between my fingers. With a rough tug, I guide toward a counter, positioning her perfectly so I can watch her face in the opposite mirror. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in a silent plea, and it only fuels my desire.

“Look at you,” I snarl, my breath hot against her ear. “You’re a mess. So desperate for it. You can’t hide it from me.” I hike her dress up to her waist and grab her panties, tearing them down in desperation.

My hands grip her hips as I press my solid cock against her. She’s soaked, and the intoxicating warmth of her body almost shatters my resolve. I want to bury myself inside her and claim her as my own. I unzip my pants, allowing them to drop to my knees alongside my boxers, craving the intimate feel of her skin as I thrust into her.

“Please...” she whispers, her voice shaking. “Don’t do this.”

“Beautiful,” I breathe, tracing the curve of her ass with the back of my hand. “You’re mine now, Clara. All that feigned innocence, that sweetness—it’s all an act. Just like me, you crave the darkness. Embrace it.”

She tries to wriggle free, but I tighten my grip, savoring the feel of her soft skin under my hands. “Stop fighting me. We both know you want this.”

“No—” Her breath catches as I thrust into her, filling her with a rough, brutal stroke.

I growl, feeling her tight heat envelop me. “Say it, Clara. Admit that you’ve wanted this.”

She shakes her head, her eyes wild but blazing with desire in their emerald depths.

“Admit that you’re mine,” I snarl, my teeth grazing her neck as I claim her body with mine.

She whimpers, her body arching as I hit a sweet spot. “Never?—”

“Lie to yourself all you want,” I pant, my control slipping. “But we both know the truth. You’re just as twisted as I am.”

She’s trembling before me, her eyes glued to the reflection of my masked face in the mirror. Her lips are parted, breath coming in sharp gasps as I thrust into her, claiming her body. I can see the desire shining in her eyes, the way she bites her lip as she watches me fuck her. It’s a heady reminder of my power.

“You like this, don’t you?” I growl. “Watching me take what’s mine. Admit it.” I tug roughly on her hair, forcing her head back to expose her creamy throat that I want to mark with bruises as I choke her until she almost passes out. I’d never truly harm my girl, but to brand her with my marks on her skin—fuck, that would be amazing.

Clara whimpers, rocking back to meet my thrusts. “Yes...” The word slips from her.

“Louder,” I demand, my grip tightening. “I want to hear you say it loud and clear.”

“Yes!” she cries out, her voice breaking as I slam into her. “It feels so good... please...”

Laughter bubbles up from my chest, a dark, cruel sound. “Please, what? Spit it out, Clara. Tell me what you want.”

Her cheeks flush, but her eyes never leave the mirror, watching my masked reflection. “I want you... I want this...”

I lean down, my mouth close to her ear. “You want me to fuck you like the dirty girl you are? Is that it?”

She nods frantically, her movements making her beautiful breasts bounce. “Yes... please, fuck me harder...”

I grin, feeling her walls clench around me. “That’s my good girl. I’m going to paint these hips with marks of my possession.”

My hands grasp her hips, pinning her still as I begin to move with almost violent force. The sound of our flesh slappingtogether fills the room, a feral rhythm that spurs me on. I watch her face in the mirror, seeing the pleasure and pain dancing exquisitely in her expression.

“You’re so tight,” I murmur. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

Her moan is like a prayer. “Oh, God... Silas...”

I chuckle, my breath warm against her ear as I lean over her back. “That’s right, baby. I’m your only deity now. Worship me.”

Her body is my temple, and I’m her dark priest administering forbidden sacraments. With each thrust, I brand her with my very essence, claiming her as mine. Her pleasure an offering, her sacrifice to me. Her cries are like hymns, her body a vessel for my divine ecstasy.

I grasp her hips roughly, leaving bruises that will remind her of my possession. “Who do you belong to?” I growl.

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